


It's In The Small Things

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-29
Updated: 2007-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron knows Harry best. He knows what he wants, and more importantly what he needs, and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way.





	It's In The Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: **Beta:** Much love and thanks to my wonderful beta [](http://hel-bee.livejournal.com/profile)[**hel_bee**](http://hel-bee.livejournal.com/).  


* * *

Sighing softly, Harry pulls back the blankets on the bed, sliding in between the cool sheets. They are freezing, a shock to his otherwise warm state of being and he can’t help but shiver as his body is encompassed not in soft warmth but in an icy coolness.

“Stupid sheets,” Harry mutters grumpily, kicking his feet and tugging the blankets up as far as they’ll go. He grabs the top of the sheets pulling them up angrily over his entire head, effectively hiding him beneath the covers.

“Alright there, mate?” Ron asks, his voice muffled by the mass of blankets covering Harry’s head.

“M’fine,” Harry replies halfheartedly.

It’s clear Ron doesn’t believe him when Harry feels the bed dip beside him. Harry simply grips the sheets tighter as Ron struggles to pull them away.

“Oh, come on. Let go!”

“No,” Harry mutters, gripping the sheets even tight.

Ron sighs, shaking his head and grabbing as much of the sheets as he can, yanking on them roughly; tugging so hard that a loud ripping noise fills the room.

“Oops,” Ron says, dropping the sheet quickly.

“Oi!” Harry exclaims, throwing back the covers and sitting up slowly; a large bit of sheet held tightly in his fist.

Harry tries to glare at Ron, tries to be annoyed or put off by the situation. Except Ron is grinning at him, obviously embarrassed yet pleased with himself nonetheless, and Harry feels his annoyance rapidly slipping away.

Ron continues to grin at him, reaching his hand towards Harry but he stops short, dropping his hands into his lap at the look on Harry’s face. He is still grinning at Harry though, and Harry cannot decide whether or not he should be bothered.

Glancing up, Harry sees Ron staring at him. As Ron looks at him, his blue eyes soft with his own repressed amusement and affection, and maybe even just a bit of nervousness, Harry knows there is no way he can stay irritated.

“Think this is funny?” Harry asks, shaking the offending bit of ripped sheet in Ron’s direction and trying desperately not to let his own burgeoning happiness show through.

“Sure it is, mate.”

“Hmph.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Ron beneath his messy fringe.

“Oh come on, Harry. Don’t even pretend you’re angry. You know you’re not.”

“I could be!” Harry grumbles, but his protests sound weak even to his own ears.

“Course you could,” Ron says consolingly.

Harry nods in silent agreement.

“But you’re not,” Ron replies smoothly.

“Oh yeah, what makes you so sure?”

“Well for one thing, your cheeks are all red. They only do that when you’re embarrassed. When you’re really angry it’s your ears that get red, not your cheeks. Also, you‘re twisting your fingers. You only do that when you‘re nervous. If you were really angry you‘d be digging your nails into your hands.”

“Oh,” Harry says, surprised at Ron‘s attention to his details.

“Also, your shoulders are slouching a bit. You always do that when you’re nervous too. When you’re really mad or angry you tend to throw your shoulders back a bit more. Makes you look a bit menacing actually,” Ron says, clearly still thinking.

“That all?”

“Nah, there’s something else,” Ron says, his voice just a deeper than normal.

“What’s that then?”

Ron doesn’t speak right away, just looks at Harry for a moment, before he climbs all the way onto the bed. He scoots over towards Harry, placing one hand on Harry’s chest and leaning forward until his lips are just a few inches from Harry’s ear.

He drags his hand downward, tracing a straight path from Harry’s left collar bone down to the base of his hip. “You’re hard,” he says smoothly, placing his hand over Harry’s cock and palming him though the material.

Harry bites his lip, arching into Ron’s touch immediately.

“You’re hard for me, Harry. You’re horny and desperate and grumpy and needy, but you’re not really mad.”

Harry shakes his head, trying for some semblance of his agreement, before he rolls them both and leaves him lying on top of Ron with their straining erections pressing together.

“Jealous,” Harry says, as if that explains everything, then leans down to attack Ron’s neck with his tongue.

“ Huh? You were jealous?” Ron asks, trying to maintain focus on his thoughts and not the way Harry’s tongue is tracing the pulse point in his neck.

“Uh huh, very. You were busy all night. Talking to everyone, making people laugh and smile, and I was stuck on the other side of the room all night entertaining the minister. Everyone got to have you but me.”

“You prat, it was a dinner in your honor.” Ron’s hands begin to wander as he speaks, until he reaches Harry’s arse; gripping firmly and pulling to two of them even tighter together. “Everyone was fawning all over you. I was just making small talk.”

“Too many clothes,” Harry moans, sitting up and tugging his shirt over his head.

Ron quickly follows suit, both of them seeming to be in a mad race to see who can undress quicker. They both yank their remaining clothing off, leaving it strewn messily across the floor and end of the bed, in favor of exploring each other’s bodies.

“Much better,” Harry says.

He never tires of the feeling of Ron’s bare skin against his; never tires of smooth, pale skin dotted in freckles exposed to only him. Never tires of the way Ron’s toes curl when he traces those freckles with his tongue, or the way Ron’s strong hands hold him tight as their bodies rock together and their cocks slide between them; a mix of pre-come and sweat creating the most satisfying friction.

“Mine,” Ron says, sucking Harry’s earlobe between his lips and dipping his fingers into the crease of his arse.

“Fuck, Ron.”

“Mmm, that’s the idea,” Ron says confidently, resuming his exploration of Harry’s neck and arse.

Harry bucks forward, pressing their cocks together tightly as a slick finger begins to probe his entrance. He is so aroused and desperate for the touch he isn’t even sure when Ron got the lube, and he honestly doesn’t care. All he wants is to feel Ron’s long fingers sinking into him, twisting and turning and preparing him; but leaving him just a little bit unready so that when he slides his cock in Harry can feel the tight slow burn as he’s filled completely.

They’ve done this so many times there are no words needed; no directions and explanation and no questions or requests. They both know exactly what the other wants.

Harry almost feels like crying out as Ron adds a second finger, almost feels likes he’s got to let something out because he knows what’s coming next and that knowledge never stops making his stomach clench or his fingers tighten; it never gets less exciting. If anything Harry thinks it gets even more arousing knowing, even without any words, that Ron will begin scissoring his fingers any second now. He will twist and turn them, teasing Harry and preparing him just enough that he’s desperate for more. Then he’ll add a third, pushing them in even deeper than before and bending his knuckles sideways, giving Harry just a brief hint of what’s to come.

Minutes later, when Harry is near mad with want and rutting against Ron who seems just as desperate for more. They switch positions. Harry lays down on the bed, bending his knees beneath him and leaning most of his weight on his elbows and forearms.

Ron runs his hands over Harry’s arse, massaging the cheeks and spreading them wide.

Harry almost wants to tell Ron to move faster, to do something or just to touch him or fuck him because he‘s so hard. Except he doesn’t say anything, because he knows that Ron needs this just as much as he does. He knows that Ron is getting enjoyment from teasing him to the edge of coherence.

All thoughts fly out the window as Ron sinks into Harry, as he slides in as far as he will go. He leans forward, his height allowing him to easily lay his chest along Harry’s back and tangle his fingers up with Harry’s; allowing Harry a moment to adjust. They just stay still for a moment, both listening to their hearts pondering in their ears and focusing on the intense heat of so much skin so closely entwined.

Several more moments pass before Ron begins to move, thrusting in and out slowly. His thrusts are unhurried, but they are deep and steady and Harry can’t help but grunt and groan at the slow burn and drag he feels with Ron’s every move.

After awhile Harry can’t focus on anything but the feel on Ron against him, the feeling of Ron in him. He’s not even coherent enough to think about what he’s doing acting on pure instinct and need.

He is hot and needy and this is desperate and tender and fierce all at once.

When Ron reaches his hand beneath Harry, gripping his cock grimly and stroking him along with every thrust, Harry knows he won’t last much longer. Ron seems to instinctively know the same thing, must feel the same way, because his thrusts and stokes speed up.

Suddenly the room is full of the sound of skin slapping and tiny grunts of pleasure; whispered curse words and disjointed utterances of affection and desire.

In what Harry thinks can only be considered a testament to their complete comfort and knowledge of each other, they both come at almost the exact same time.

Harry shudders, his arms collapsing from the strain as his orgasm hits, falling face first onto the mattress. Ron follows suit, clinging to Harry and holding onto him tightly as he rides out his own waves of pleasure.

Several moments pass before Ron rolls over, grabbing his wand off the side table and uttering a few cleaning spells.

“Much better,” Ron says, rolling back towards Harry and throwing his arm and leg over him; enveloping him completely.

Harry doesn’t protest in the least, turning just slightly and soaking up Ron’s warmth.

“Mmm, you should get jealous more often,” Ron says into the top of Harry’s head.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, clearly confused.

“Cause you’re hot when you’re all jealous and moody.”

Harry harrumphs, making a vaguely disbelieving noise in the back of his throat.

“S’true,” Ron tells him.

“Yes, I imagine a short sighted, bad tempered man with a mop for hair is very attractive when he’s grumpy.”

Ron lets out a throaty laugh, tightening his hold on Harry.

“But you’re my short sighted, bad tempered, mop of a head man.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Besides,” Ron says, mirth evident in his voice, “you’re always so much more horny and needy when you’re moody.”

“You made me jealous on purpose!” Harry exclaims, disbelief coloring his voice.

Ron stokes Harry’s bare back in a placating matter. “Mmm, all mine.”

“You’re unbelievable, Ron.” Though Ron is pleased to notice Harry doesn’t sound very put out.

“I got you, didn’t I?”

“Oi, go to sleep now!” Though Harry is glad Ron can’t see the blush forming on his face.

“With pleasure,” Ron replies, snuggling up to Harry.

It only takes a few minutes before Ron is asleep, soft snores filling the room and gentle puffs of air tickling Harry’s head.

Harry bites his lip and smiles into Ron’s neck, exhausted and content.

Some things, Harry thinks, only get better with time.


End file.
